Rapture's Dragon Age
by RoastedWolf
Summary: When Marilyn, a young doctor yet to be tainted by the madness of ADAM, comes across a group of bizarre strangers she thinks they're a hallucination. Little does she know she'll depend on them to survive. FenrisxOC HawkexAnders. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, would you look at that - BioShock and Dragon Age... together... yikes! I know everyone hates OC characters in popular games and stories but I couldn't resist putting Marilyn in and totally having her fall for everyone's favourite broody elf Fenris. Blaspheme I know but meh, they work I think... I hope...**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. It's not as well written as I'd like but I'll edit it later. Constructive criticism please, not random hate...**

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><p>Marilyn Ann Wright peered around the blood soaked corner of the doorframe, clutching her revolver tightly in her sweaty hands. The pale wails of the monstrosities haunting the corridors of Rapture echoed around her. Her lungs took in the moist air as the bright neon lights glowed like coals, advertising the nearby Gatherer's Garden. She shivered – something wasn't right.<p>

Barely breathing she eased into the next room while her heart rapped a violent tattoo against her ribs. It wasn't as though she was new to this. The threat of death just seemed so much closer than usual. The floor beneath her boots was coated in thick blood. She fell into a crouch, narrowing her eyes as she trailed a thin finger through the gore. It wasn't fresh, already it had clotted. She straightened and moved on.

Her ears were pricked over her frantic heartbeat for any sounds of movement. She'd long ago learnt to be stealthy in Rapture. The threat of being torn apart by a Big Daddy hung over her like death itself. She hated this but she was running low on EVE hypos – she only had two left. This was the sole reason she was out here, risking it all. She either needed to hit a storeroom or find a corpse. She prayed to find the latter. Storerooms always had a few Splicers lurking in the shadows and she did not want a confrontation.

She began up the stairs, swallowing as the cracked wood creaked under her foot. Something definitely wasn't right. It was almost too quiet. She expected to meet at least one Splicer, not just hear them in the distance. She mentally shrugged. She shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

Just as the thought ghosted across her mind she heard a noise. She cursed herself, flaring her Incinerate! plasmid to life while cocking her revolver. It was best to be prepared. The low rustle of movement came to her on the still air. Quietly, so quietly, she inched further up the stairs, her heart in her mouth. If she made a _single_ sound she'd be killed. She heard a muffled curse – nothing more than a swift expel of breath – and froze, being sure to take slow deep breaths.

Her whole body was tensed to spring and for a moment the whole world became still. There was the sound of footsteps and then Marilyn flared into combat. With a roar she launched herself upwards, twisting into the gaping doorway and hurling a ball of fire at the enemy. The Splicer shrieked in pain and she summoned her wits, forcing her body to dissipate into a cloud of rose petals. She dodged around the Splicer before solidifying behind it, aiming her revolver and firing as quickly at her fingers would allow. Six, seven, eight bullets later and the Splicer collapsed to the floor with a groan of pain. Triumphant she stalked forwards and hunkered down beside the burnt corpse, sorting through its pockets and finding an assortment of life saving items. Two packs of bandages, an EVE hypo and a bar of chocolate.

She tore open the chocolate bar, stuffing it into her mouth hungrily and chewing quickly. She did not savour the taste, instead tucking the bandages and the hypo into her belt before spiriting away. She was well aware that her fight with the Splicer would not have gone unheard and sure enough she could already hear the sounds of other Splicers scurrying to investigate the source of the commotion.

Their piercing laughter made her cringe – it went through her like a cold breeze.

She streaked through the corridors, reloading her revolver quickly as she went. She was low on ammunition too. She scowled, skidding to a halt before whipping into what looked like a kitchen. She gathered as many supplies as she could, listening as the Splicers around her came to life. The splinter of gunfire echoed around her and she looked over her shoulder at the closed door, stuffing food into her backpack before zipping it up. She was too exhausted to transport herself a second time. She'd have to make her way back home on foot.

She pulled a pocket watch out of her trousers, flipping open the cracked case and peering at the time. Nightfall was only half an hour away. She had thirty minutes to get to her shelter – it would be tight but she could make it if she avoided combat. She bit her lip nervously; if she was caught outside after dark she'd be in very serious danger. The night brought worse demons than Leadhead Splicers.

Setting her mind to the task at hand she scurried out of the kitchen and made her way back the way she'd come. Her pack was heavy and she felt ill with lack of EVE. The ADAM vial on her belt was a quarter empty – hardly enough to get an upgrade – but she'd go ADAM hunting tomorrow. Now was not the right time. All in all the day had not been a good one. She only had a couple more hypos at home. Tomorrow she'd have to cast her search farther afield.

She was loping down the stairs when it happened. There was a brilliant flash of light and something exploded. With a shriek she staggered away, blinded, and fumbled for shelter. Ears ringing, she felt her way under a desk, clutching her face in one hand while the other groped hopelessly for her revolver. Raw terror writhed in her heart while her chest rose and fell in frantic breath. She blinked frantically, trying to regain her sight so she could assess the danger. The quicker she knew what she was dealing with the quicker she could scramble to safety.

Slowly, very slowly her sight returned. The white light which had rendered her sightless had faded and the explosion was no more than a resonating memory. Marilyn remained crouched under the desk and kept her eyes closed, listening intently. For a moment there was nothing and her heart began to calm.

Then something (or rather someone) groaned. Her stomach leapt up her throat and she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle each rattling breath. A clamour of voices – anger was a bright spark in a strong female's voice, guilt in a male's before a deeper growl of fury. Marilyn clenched her jaw and cursed her curiosity to the lowest pits of hell. She took a moment to summon her courage before crawling into a crouch and peering up over the tabletop. Her revolver slipped out of her sweaty hand in shock, her eyes going wide as it clattered against the floor below.

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><p>Fenris hurried after Hawke's brisk footsteps. The hair on the back of his neck prickled in something like dread; the tension that had been bubbling in Kirkwall for the past three years was reaching breaking point. And now the Knight-Commander Meredith and Orsino were having another argument. Of course Hawke had been called upon. As Champion of Kirkwall it had somehow become her duty to have a hand in social politics.<p>

Fenris brooded all the way to the Chantry steps. He had always known it would eventually come to this – a choice between the magi and the templars. And he knew Hawke well enough to know whom she would side with. The thought of fighting alongside the magi had disgust writhing in his stomach; his lip curled. Damn his loyalty to her! He owed her his freedom and he knew he'd fight at her side. Even if she trusted mages blindly.

The sky above Kirkwall was as dark as his mood and a drop of rain hit the yellowing parchment in Hawke's clenched fist. Beside him Merrill and Varric cast nervous glances to the clouds – his sharp ears picked up the distant rumble of thunder.

"I will have the tower searched. Top to bottom!"

Fenris spied Meredith's gauntlet gesturing irritably as she glared at Orsino. The mage scowled.

"You cannot do that." He retorted, anger making the elf's ears redden. "You have no right!"

The templars stirred slightly as Meredith replied, quick as a snake. "I have every right! You are harbouring blood mages and I intend to root them out before they infect this city."

Orsino continued heatedly, "Blood magic! Where you do not see blood magic? My people cannot sneeze without you accusing them of corruption."

At this the Knight-Commander growled dangerously. "Do not trifle with me, mage. My patience is at an end."

"A wonder that I ever saw it begin!"

"Why are you fighting _again_?" Hawke slowed to a halt before the two, turning her head first to Meredith and then to Orsino. Bethany eyed to her, worried.

"You would have to get involved."

Fenris hovered behind Hawke with the others, watching and listening nervously as Meredith advanced. Her tone was businesslike.

"Good. You've found us."

"The Champion will not stop me. The people deserve to know just what you've done." Orsino interjected. His grey eyebrows folded over his light green eyes, the wind teasing at the fine silver hairs on his head.

"What I have done is protect the people of this city, time and time again!" Meredith snapped, twisting to Orsino like a beast being stoked. Fenris felt his eyebrow rise slightly – he knew that movement only too well. "And I will not stop doing it. I will not lower our guard, I dare not!"

"Is there any truth to what she's saying?" Hawke asked politely, her crystal blue eyes examining Orsino carefully.

"These are only her latest accusations, nothing more!" Orsino said, fisting one hand against the other to emphasize his point. "And what if she does not find what she's looking for? How much further will she go to root out something that isn't there?"

"The Champion knows better than anyone how deep the Circle's corruption goes." Meredith said. "I must find the source!"

"There must be some way we can work this out." Hawke said and Fenris twitched; she was desperately trying to sooth the situation. But it was to no avail.

"What other options do we have?" Meredith said and her tone turned sad. "Tell me, Champion, that you have not seen with your own eyes what they can do, heard the lies of mages that seek power!"

"You can't use the actions of some to condemn them all."

"You would cast us all as villains, but it is not so!" Orsino charged forwards, glaring at Meredith. She looked at him.

"I know, and it breaks my heart to do it, but we must be vigilant." At this Meredith genuinely sounded regretful. Fenris shuffled uncomfortably, sharing a knowing look with Varric. This was not going to end well. "If you cannot tell me another way, do not brand me a tyrant!"

"This is getting us nowhere." Orsino shook his head. "Grand Cleric Elthina will put a stop to this."

The two squabbling leaders turned to the Chantry steps and Hawke watched, almost bemused, as the Knight-Commander grabbed Orsino's shoulder and twisted him around roughly.

"You will not bring her Grace into this!" she snarled, her armour flashing in the night. Orsino opened his mouth to retort when another voice joined the fray. It was a voice Fenris loathed and recognised at once.

"The grand cleric cannot help you." Out of the shadows Anders crept, his staff in hand. Fenris thought he saw Hawke shudder in sudden dread. If the Abomination got involved there certainly would be trouble. Meredith was on him like a dog, her eyebrows crashing together like rocks.

"Explain yourself, mage!"

"I will not stand by and watch you treat all mages like criminals," he said, standing offensively and slamming his staff against the ground, "while those who lead us would bow to their templar jailers."

He cast a disgusted look to Orsino who took a breath. "How dare you speak to –"

"The Circle has failed us, Orsino!" Anders interrupted. "Even you should be able to see that!" He continued as Justice flared. "The time has come to act. There can be no half-measures."

"Anders, what have you done?" Hawke asked. Anders turned away, avoiding her gaze as she stared at him, concerned.

"There can be no turning back."

And then the ground shuddered. Alarmed, Fenris stared down at his feet as the rumbling got louder and louder before snapping his head up to stare at the Chantry. Red light radiated out of its windows as three beams threw themselves towards the tumultuous sky. Like some great creature the Chantry disintegrated, coiling upwards before exploding in a blinding flash of white light. A great gust of wind swept through his hair, sending him a few steps backwards with the force.  
>Out of the last echoes ringing in his ears, Meredith's voice reached him. It was staggered in shock. "Maker have mercy!"<p>

Fenris looked up and his stomach dropped in horror. The Chantry was gone and for a moment no one moved. Silence fell all over Kirkwall.

"Elthina!" Sebastian cried suddenly, falling to his knees and shattering the quiet with his cry. "No! Maker, no! She was Your must faithful, Your most beloved!" He hung his head, his voice becoming desperately, sickeningly hopeful. "Maybe she wasn't there. Maybe she made it out..." Sebastian struggled to his feet with effort, his impossibly blue eyes filling with tears for the dead. He held out his hand, muttering a prayer to the Maker.

"There can be no peace." Anders whispered quietly. Raw fury coiled in Fenris' heart. Hawke was staring at the Abomination with a mixture of unveiled despair and wild agony.

"The grand cleric has been slain by magic." The Knight-Commander said with trembling certainty. "The Chantry destroyed." She paused to consider before twisting on her heel. Terrible determination was etched over her face – Fenris watched the conclusion form in her eyes. "As Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, I hereby invoke the Right of Annulment. Every mage in the Circle is to be executed – immediately!"

"The Circle didn't even do this!" Orsino cried. "Champion, you can't let her! Help us stop this madness!"

"And I demand you stand with us!" Meredith glared defiantly at Hawke, launching her request before she could reply. "Even you must see that this outrage cannot be tolerated."

Sebastian cut in, having regained his composure and was glowering at Anders with unrestrained loathing. "Why are we debating the Right of Annulment when the monster who did this is right here?" He took a step forwards, his voice becoming a growl of wrath. "I swear to you, I will kill him!"

"It can't be stopped now." Anders said and Fenris restrained the urge to leap forwards and plunge his sword deep into the Abomination's gut. How dare he speak! How dare he stand there so smugly while the ashes of the Chantry swirled like snow around them! "You have to choose."

Hawke didn't reply, staring at Anders hopelessly. Her features bled sorrow for a moment before she spoke. Her voice was hollow yet so filled with aching anguish. "I could have stopped you."

"No." Anders replied. "This had to happen."

"Do you realise what you've started here?" She retorted, angry now. Anders nodded.

"I do. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you earlier." He paused before continuing; Fenris could see he could sense the eyes of the others on him. "The Circle is an injustice, in many places beyond Kirkwall. The world needs to see."

"Elthina is not the Circle!" Sebastian shouted furiously. "She was a good woman, and you murdered her!"

"Why did you come back?" Hawke said before Anders could defend himself. "For this?"

"I removed the chance of compromise, because there _is_ no compromise."

"You fool!" Orsino exclaimed. "You've doomed us all!"

"We were already doomed. A quick death now or a slow one later – I'd rather die fighting!" Anders set his jaw, his hand tightening slightly on his staff. Hawke shook her head, her eyebrows furrowed in anger.

"You may have turned everyone against the mages now."

"Was anyone ever with us?"

As these words passed Anders's lips Fenris felt his tattoos begin to tingle. The hairs on the back of his neck pricked and he cast a wary glance around him. A flash of lightening sliced across the sky, illuminating Hawke's armour. Almost distantly he heard her offer her support to the mages and he spoke, hearing his own voice as though from a great way away. The words made no sense on his tongue, even if they did in his head. He felt as though the world was collapsing around him and his stomach jolted again. A bolt of energy burst up his spine, sparkling to his brain and for a few heartbeats everything froze. He heard a rushing sound and then his vision went blank. He was falling, slipping out of reality and hurtling away from Kirkwall, away from Thedas and away from all he knew.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Fenris returned to consciousness with a jerk. He took a deep breath of musty, moist air before he was shoved aside violently.

"Move!" Anders grunted in the dark and Fenris blinked, struggling to make sense of the looming shapes around him. His sharp ears picked up the steady drip of water pattering against a wooden floor. He suffered a moment of pure terror – this wasn't Kirkwall...

"Anders, you bastard!" Hawke's voice filled the void sharply and her armour creaked. Fenris felt someone move beside him and he saw her outline stand. "Come here so I can throttle you!"

"Not before me, Hawke." Varric growled. His voice was muffled as though he was squashed under something. There was another movement and a groan of discomfort before Merrill piped up.

"Is everyone alright?"

"I think so." Varric replied. "I'll be even better if you get off my leg Daisy."

"Oh, sorry Varric!" There was a shuffling sound and Varric sighed in relief. Fenris sat up, rubbing his head where an ache had sprung. Gradually his surroundings became clearer as his eyes got used to the gloom. There was a small desk by the wall near a cracked staircase. Anders was standing a little way away, staring at Hawke apprehensively while his hand gripped his staff.

"I'm sorry." He said, his voice barely a whisper. Hawke scowled.

"Why am I not surprised?" Fenris muttered angrily, getting to his feet and glaring at the Abomination. "You can never trust a mage."

"I had to do it!" Anders replied. "We mages would never have been free of the tyranny of the Circl–"

"You should not speak of tyranny, murderer." Fenris interrupted. His tattoos flared as disgust curdled like oil in his gut. "I should kill you where you stand."

"Go on then." Anders taunted, setting his jaw. "Maybe my death will be a worthy payment for my 'crime'."

Fenris' hand went to his sword, his lip curling into a silent snarl.

"No." Hawke ground out from between clenched teeth. "If he is to be killed then I shall do it."

There was a moment when no one moved. Anders stared at Hawke, his face going pale as her gaze met his. She set her jaw and they held for a second before she looked away.

"Where are we?" She growled, casting a look around her. Fenris peered above him, catching something out of the corner of his eye. He tensed and his stomach jumped. Had something just moved on the landing?

"It seems we're in... another dimension – this is not what I planned." Anders rubbed his chin with his forefinger. Hawke snapped back to him.

"Oh? And what did you plan? To kill all those innocent sisters? For the Maker's sake, what possessed you do to do something like that? Was it Justice? Is he the reason?"

"No. And I've told you." Anders replied, not meeting her eye and examining her collar closely. "I had to – there was to be no compromise. Meredith would have killed us – the mages, _me_ –anyway."

"He's a mage Hawke." Fenris said, taking a couple steps forwards and narrowing his eyes. Anger boiled in his veins, making his tattoos glow slightly. "What did you expect? I've told you this would happen and still you didn't listen. Can't you understand that mages are all the same?"

Fenris threw Anders a sneer and he glowered in reply. Hawke swallowed, her lips peeling apart to reveal her clenched teeth.

"Y-you used me, didn't you?" she whispered. Somehow her whisper was louder than any shout. Anders glanced at her, his face carved in guilt. Fenris wasn't falling for it. Anders had used Hawke to help him kill innocent people. That was worthy of death in his book. "Is that what I've helped you with? How could you!"

Her last few shouted words echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls and making Anders flinch away.

"H-Hawke?" Merrill ventured tentatively into the silence, her big green eyes watching her worriedly.

"What?" Hawke snapped, turning to look at her. Her crystal blue eyes bored into Merrill who looked away quickly. Fenris thought he heard footsteps and something giggle. He whipped around, his eyes straining to see into the shadows. Varric noticed and tensed his shoulders.

"W-where are we?"

The silence was shattered by a sharp popping noise and a plume of red petals. Fenris jumped in shock as something exploded, and his hand flew to his sword as he took in the figure standing before them.

It was a woman; her hair hung loosely around her ears and it looked blonde in the half dark. She was dressed in a pair of tight leather trousers and a brown belt peeked out from under her dark jacket. Her rucksack made a clanking noise as she turned to look back at them, her lips curling into a smile. Fenris' eyes zoomed to her boots where a dead body lay, blood oozing out of a small hole between its eyes.

He looked back up, meeting her gaze. She turned to them fully, smirking slightly. There was the sliding scream of steel against steel and Hawke shuffled forwards, her weapons drawn.

"Easy, easy folks!" the woman said, raising a thin hand. Laughter hovered on the edge of her voice. She eyed their weapons and a thin eyebrow rose. "Wow... you sure are old fashioned..." Her boot thunked heavily against the wooden floor below as she padded towards them, her face lit with curiosity.

"Come no closer!" Fenris snarled, brandishing his sword and glaring at her. She paused, her gaze examining his face closely. His heart began to thunder loudly in his chest before she snorted with mirth.

"Who are you?" Hawke demanded, her shield glinting in the dark. The woman looked at her. "What is this place? Answer me!"

The woman laughed softly, turning back to the corpse and crouching over it, sorting through its pockets.

"Me name's Marilyn Monroe." She said before looking over her shoulder, grinning with a wink; Fenris blinked, unsure if she was joking or not. "I'm just kidding. Call me Marilyn, or just plain Mari." She straightened then, swinging her bag off her shoulder and opening it with a strange zipping noise. She stuffed several items into it and it rattled irritably as she closed it up again. "Y'all must be floating on clouds not to know where we are."

"Well... ah... Marilyn," Hawke began, lowering her weapons slightly. Fenris did the same, his sweaty hands slipping slightly on the hilt of his sword – he wasn't sure about this 'Marilyn' woman. He didn't trust her one bit. "Due to _someone's_ idiocy (and downright atrocious actions) we've been... transported here by magical means. We have no idea where we are."

"You can just say it's me." Anders mumbled. Hawke didn't look at him, a tick starting in her jaw.

"Quiet, I'm not happy with you Anders."

The woman had gone very still partway through putting her bag back on her shoulder. A white plat swung in front of her face. Fenris had a strange desire to touch it. He frowned at himself as she looked up at them, her eyes darting from him to Hawke and then back.

"'Magical means'?" she said slowly and she took a step backwards, her hand easing to a holster on her belt where something metal flashed. "Well... I'll just be going then..."

"Now hold on there sweet cheeks." Varric said and Bianca creaked as he raised her again, aiming it directly at the woman's heart. "We need information. Answer the beautiful lady and we'll be civil."

The woman tipped her chin up slightly in pride. "Now listen here wee one, if things are gonna get nasty I'll make sure you see the best of Rapture."

Forever the diplomat Hawke stepped in, looking to Varric who lowered Bianca. "We just want answers, please. Where are we?"

"We're in Rapture honey." The woman said after a moment, taking another step back. She pulled her metal weapon out of its holder, keeping at her thigh. "It's Andrew Ryan's greatest achievement." She laughed then, softly, as though she was being ironic.

Hawke blinked and Fenris felt his eyebrows drop lower. "Rapture? I don't understand – who is Andrew Ryan?"

The woman ogled Hawke, her mouth dropping open in surprise. Her eyebrows rose as she spoke. "Wow... how much ADAM have you dosed up on exactly? How can you not know who Andrew Ryan is? Christ on a stick!"

"Please, Marilyn," Anders said, stepping towards her and giving her a pleading expression, "you must believe us. We're not from this world – we've come from another dimension. We have no idea how we got here, or where we are."

"Funny, seeing as it's your fault we're here in the first place." Hawke muttered, glowering at Anders. He turned slightly, staring at her seriously.

"I apologise for getting us into this mess." He whispered quickly. "But I will not apologise for what I did to the Chantry."

"You should beg the Maker for forgiveness damn you." Hawke shot back. Her voice was so filled with venom Fenris was surprised she didn't spit purple acid at him.

"When you two lovebirds are quite finished squabbling..." the woman said loudly, her eyes roaming around the room. "We need to get out of here, get to somewhere safe. If you truly don't know where we are then I'll explain when we get to my safe house." She turned slightly, eyeing Fenris. He watched her as her gaze skipped down his arms. "Follow me and stay close. Hey, Mister Light-Bulb – up front with me please." She threw him a grin and his stomach jolted uncomfortably. "You can light the way."

"Mister what?" he replied, feeling his tattoos flare in response to his suddenly rising ire.

The woman smirked. "Light-Bulb, y'know... one of these?" She pointed a thin finger at a small glass object sitting innocently on the ground near her foot. Fenris blinked, leaning down to look at it closely. His curiosity caught, he picked it up and tucked it into one of his pockets to examine later.

When he straightened the woman was eyeing him amusedly. She didn't move for a moment before she turned on her heel and began away into the dark. He watched her go, noticing the wrench shoved into the back of her belt. It was covered in blood.

"Are you sure about this?" he heard Merrill ask Hawke.

"It doesn't look as though we've got a choice." She replied before striding past him. He began after her, allowing the light off his tattoos to illuminate the way.

He fell into step beside the strange woman. He could feel her gaze upon him like the sun on a bright summer day. She was watching him carefully, curiously – he risked a glance at her.

"Why do you keep staring at me?"

"Oh, I'm just wondering if your ears are real and what plasmid you have to make you all... light bulb like." She made a vague hand gesture towards his tattoos. Annoyed, he scowled.

"Of course. Haven't you ever seen an elf before? And my tattoos are of lyrium. They were burned into my skin." He snarled back and she smirked.

"Elf? I can't say I have. And that sounds lovely. I totally believe you." She threw him a wink before sauntering ahead. Half irritated, half amused he trotted after her, careful to keep away from sharp splinters.

The darkness seemed to swallow then before being driven away by a burst of light from what the woman muttered was a "Neon sign. Nasty things, give you a right scare sometimes when they flicker."

She walked the corridors confidently with what he took for a weapon still clutched tightly in her hand. The only thing that gave her evident nerves away was her breathing which was shallow and scared. His sharp ears picked up every shaky intake of air. The others followed mutely, bristling with metal and wooden staffs. Varric had Bianca loaded and aimed steadily at the darkness. Everyone was tense, everyone was prepared for combat.

They were passing down a particularly dim corridor in the only source of light was Fenris when something groaned loudly. The woman jumped into a defensive position, raising her weapon and aiming it into the darkness.

"Yo, Mister Light-Bulb, turn off the lights."

He followed her order without question, drawing his sword smoothly and straining to see. The silence was sinister – the hairs on the back of his neck prickled as something moved behind the wall beside him. Dimly he saw the woman's hand usher him back and he retreated quietly, his ears pricked for any sound over his pounding heart. It was thundering so loudly he would have been surprised if no one else could hear it.

For the first time in a long while he felt fear creeping up his spine. At the realisation of this he gripped his sword tighter, swallowing and clenching his jaw. He'd faced worse than ghouls in the dark. He wouldn't let the fear control him. He took a deep, steadying breath and saw something move up ahead.

"Steady." The women breathed in his ear. Whatever it was, it sounded big and slow. He found himself entering another level of confusion – was it nothing more than an ogre? He'd faced high dragons and wyverns, creatures of the blight and abominations and had never felt the thrill of fear. But this, this was something different. The creature groaning and lumbering around them held a threat unspoken but potent in the way the woman tensed.

When the voice of a child spoke he jumped.

"This way, Mister Bubbles!"

There was the pitter-patter of little feet and another moan. The floor shook slightly and dust hazed down from the ceiling above as the creature took heavy slow steps. It sounded as though it was heading away from them. The woman's right hand suddenly flared into life, flickering flames coiling around her tensed fist. Fenris' eyes dipped to look and warning blared in his head. Was she a mage?

Soon enough the footsteps were a safe distance away. The woman relaxed, letting out a breath of held air in relief.

"Thank God and all his fuzzy bunnies." She muttered, bringing a shaking hand over her eyes.

"What in the Void was that?" Varric asked and five pairs of eyes focused upon their shivering guide.

"That was one of the deadliest creatures in all of Rapture." She explained. "That was a Big Daddy; they're even more dangerous than the Splicers. God help us, if it had caught our scent and perceived us as a threat..." She shuddered. "C'mon, we have to get moving."

His head buzzing with questions, Fenris followed the woman in silence. His queries would have to wait, she didn't even answer questions from Hawke.

When the darkness receded into the bright artificial light of the neon the woman came to a halt. Two metallic creatures swivelled to her, aiming their long snouts at her.

"Easy boys." She said. "It's just Aunty Mari and a few friends – let 'em pass." She chuckled before standing to the side, holding her arm out to a tiny hatch between the guarding creatures.

"Welcome to my home." She said with a smile. "Please, ignore Igor and Timothy – they're a little jumpy." She grinned at them. "Well, go on then – I'll take the end, do a swift check and get the security camera up and running."

As she said this she glanced at the coiled corpse of something on the wall uneasily. There was a pause and then Hawke stepped forwards, heading towards the hatch. The metallic beasts followed her every move, ticking menacingly. She got down on her knees, crawling forwards and opening the hatch with an armoured arm. She glanced back, her gaze locking with Fenris' for a moment before she ventured forwards and disappeared.

Anders followed, shoving his staff through first. Merrill was next, casting a nervous glimpse around her as she edged through the hatch. Varric was last to go, sharing a look with Fenris before vanishing.

"Well... aren't you going to follow them?" The woman asked innocently. He turned to look at her; she was smiling hopefully. "I have plenty of supplies and my home is rather comfortable." She winked at him before striding to a chair, moving it under the corpse and standing up on it. She took a moment to struggle to reach it.

"Damn my stature!" she muttered, standing on her tiptoes and stretching a thin arm upwards. Then she looked back at him. "Sorry, can you help me? I can't quite reach..."

He nodded, padding towards her. She hopped neatly off the chair and he climbed up, reaching the corpse easily and pulling it off, and out of, the wall.

"Tah friend." She said as he handed it to her. Then her face twisted as she looked at the mangled body. "Oh God those Splicers, damn them all!"

Muttering to herself she made her way to one of the beasts, pulling out her wrench and tapping its snout. She seemed to be checking the creature for injuries. He considered for a second before pulling a health potion out of the sac on his belt.

"Here. For your creature. It'll heal it." he said briskly, holding the little bottle out to her. The red liquid swilled around under the light. She stared at it.

"Oh... urm... thanks?" she replied, taking it tentatively. He hissed softly as her finger brushed against one of the lines of lyrium on his palm.

Marilyn stared up at Mister Light-Bulb curiously, holding the little bottle of red liquid carefully. The echo of his hiss faded and he was looking at her with a slight frown. Her turret was undamaged as far as she knew but she found it sweet the tall stranger had thought to help. His tattoos were something alien to her and they intrigued her – she was sure to touch one of them when she'd taken the bottle off him. The tingle of raw power had passed up her arm, making her feel fleetingly flustered. His reaction had been unexpected. Maybe he didn't like to be touched?

The idea made a sly smile curl across her face. He blinked, his eyebrows furrowing before he spoke in that rather hypnotic voice.

"What is it?"

"Nothing." She replied, going back to checking her turret. Igor was fine and so she moved to Timothy, noticing he was running out of ammo. With a sigh she opened her backpack, pulling out a chain of grenades and replacing the empty belt. "You should go in." She said as she secured the grenade belt with her wrench. "It isn't safe out here."

"That's why I'm waiting for you." Mister Light-Bulb replied.

She chuckled, feeling a little flattered, "You don't have to wait for a lass like me. I can look after myself, I'm not a kid."

"You're female."

"And your leader is not?"

"A fair point." He said after a moment. He made a strange movement with his head that could have been a nod before turning around and making for the hatch, dropping down and shuffling out of sight. Marilyn raised an eyebrow before returning to her examination of Timothy. Mister Light-Bulb wasn't exactly... disappointing to look at. If he was real at all that was.

Marilyn had a distinct feeling the strange group of weirdoes were nothing more than a figment of her imagination. Two of them, including the white haired Mister Light-Bulb, had pointy ears. Not only did that make her smirk, but it made her worry too.

If she was imagining all of this (no doubt she was) her mind could have been more inventive than have two of Santa's little slaves run about Rapture. And the guy with the crossbow – wow, looked like Gimli had upgraded his axes while running around with Legolas. She smirked, yeah, Mister Light-Bulb was totally Legolas, except he used a huge sword (not that it wasn't obvious he was compensating for something). And the other guy who totally dug the lead chick? If he didn't have emotional issues then she was a turkey. A fat turkey.

She snorted in mirth. What she'd do for a big fat roast turkey...

Finally Timothy was ready. She straightened and took in hand the remains of the ruined camera. Sighing, she made her way to the hatch and crawled through it, shoving the camera in front of her before she entered the safety of her home.

Taking a deep breath of familiar air she got to her feet and looked around the room. Her home was small – there were three rooms in total, including a bathroom. Her strange guests were gathered in the sitting room, Gimli and Santa's-Little-Helper were standing near the old jukebox. Mister Emotional was hovering near the entrance to the bedroom and Mister Light-Bulb was leaning against the wall beside her. Their leader was stood a little way away, her arms folded across her chest and her sharp crystal blue eyes watching Marilyn carefully like some great mockery of a bird of prey.

"Okay, you're going to explain everything now." Their leader said, glaring proudly at Marilyn. She had the feeling the woman was trying to intimidate her.

"All in good time." Marilyn replied, turning the lock of the hatch with her foot. Mister Light-Bulb shifted slightly from his place against the wall. "First I want your names, plasmids, upgrades, weapons..." She paused. "Please tell me you have guns."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." their leader said. "We can give you our names. That is all. My name is Hawke, Maye Hawke."

Marilyn laughed loudly, "Seriously? Well, that's ironic. Continue."

"My name is Fenris." said Mister Light-Bulb, nodding his head slightly. Marilyn's heart jumped in joy. Oh yes the name suited him very well.

"Varric Tethras at your service." Gimli said with a smart bow.

The girl at his side smiled nervously. "I'm Merrill."

"Anders." Mister Emotional said with a pained smile. Marilyn raised an eyebrow, expecting them to shout the name of their gang. After a few moments she smirked.

"What, no nickname for the pack of thieves?"

"I was thinking along the lines of The Doom Bringers but Hawke shot that idea down." Gimli, or Varric, said with a grin. Marilyn smirked mischievously.

"I'll say," she replied. There was an awkward silence before she made her way to the drinking cabinet.

"I suppose I'd better explain Rapture then." The glasses chinked as she drew them out, pouring six glasses of whiskey for six confused people. She turned to them, handing out the glasses carefully.

"I do not wish to –" Fenris began but she pushed the glass into his hand anyway.

"You're gonna need that, Mister Light-Bulb, when I'm done." She moved away again and sat near the wall. "Where should I begin?" She pondered aloud before sighing and beginning her tale.

As she explained the small group began to pale in surprise and understanding. She used the last portion of her EVE to explain her plasmids, and her second last hypo to return to full strength. She had to admit, they were a good audience. They didn't interrupt once; they listened to her and only questioned when she paused. She also appreciated that they were not stupid – she hated explaining things more than once.

"Maker's breath... they're a bit crazier than our lot aren't they?" Their leader, Hawke, said when Marilyn had finished.

"That's an understatement..." the dwarf muttered and Santa's-Little-Helper ogled Marilyn fearfully.

"Yes, they are – I'm the only sane one alive." Marilyn paused for a moment, frowning slightly. "Well... mostly sane."

"I do not trust this." Mister Light-Bulb Fenris said, frowning slightly. He looked to Hawke, his green eyes slated with suspicion. "I wish to speak with you. Alone."

Smirking, Marilyn butted in. "If you want to talk you can go in there." She pointed to a door which was slightly ajar; it led to her bedroom. "Just try not to poke about in any of my drawers."

With a passing scowl back at her, Fenris padded towards Marilyn's bedroom. Hawke followed him, looking slightly apologetic. Marilyn shrugged her shoulders and turned her attention to the other three.

It looked to be a long night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the wait! Gods, I've been doing exams and revision has taken over my life I'm afraid. Forgive me for the wait. I'm working on Chapter Four as I type this. I promise it'll be up in a couple days.**

**Anyway, enjoy the latest chapter! Sorry again!**

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><p>Chapter 3<p>

Fenris narrowed his eyes slightly as he padded into the small bedroom. Hawke followed him, closing the door behind her softly and watching him with those striking blue eyes. The darkness swallowed them both, embedding them in half darkness until the pale light from outside the dim windows crept over Hawke's tense face. The distinct feeling of trepidation that had overcome him when Marilyn had been explaining her world to them had grown. Now it sat like a dead weight in his heart. But he wasn't afraid – merely concerned.

"What are we going to do?" he asked after a moment, watching Hawke's face carefully. She looked awfully grim.

"I really don't know... we can't do much now – but we should pray to the Maker that Anders or Merril can get us back safely."

Fenris felt his lip curl in irritation. "Trusting the magisters again Hawke?" He watched as she scowled at him. He continued softly. "You can trust them no more than that Marilyn out there."

At that moment he heard the woman laugh merrily outside. Hawke's frown deepened and her tone became very irritated.

"As I've already said Fenris; there's nothing much we can do – we know nothing about this world apart from what Marilyn has told us and that we're stuck here. So, unless you can tear a hole into the Fade we'll have to hope they can think of something."

"Can't you understand that they won't?" he growled in reply. His expression became sour as anger reared its head. "You've trusted mages in the face of such heartbreak – everything that has ever gone wrong for you is thanks to the mages. When will you see that they're never going to help us unless they gain something out of the situation?" Hawke went very quiet and looked away. Fenris ploughed on, gradually getting more irritated. "You love him. Love blinds you to the truth. He'll never change. Ever. He's insane; his pet demon has warped his already twisted mind."

"Do not think I am blind to his betrayal." Hawke snarled, glowering at him furiously. Anger burned coldly in her eyes as her voice growled. "I know he has committed a grave sin and I know he deserves punishment." She stepped in close as pain flashed for a fraction of a second in her blue eyes. "But do not expect me to readily deal it out."

"I do expect it." Fenris said coolly, meeting her glare defiantly. "He is your responsibility and your easy trust in mages has led to the death of hundreds of innocent people. I've told you so many times not to trust them. After everything they did to me, after everything they've done to you, you still seek to support them!"

Hawke sighed heavily, stepping back and looking away. "We will not have this argument here."

Fenris set his jaw. "Fine. But we will discuss this later."

They shared a moment to glower at each other; the common conflict of the fate of mages hovering between them like an ugly shadow. And then the woman spoke, her voice sharp with something like fear.

"He needs to leave."

Hawke frowned and opened the door. Fenris followed her, coming to the scene of the woman standing and glowering at Anders who was steadily ignoring her. Varric and Merril were watching her, and both glanced at Hawke apprehensively as she spoke.

"He stays."

"He blew up some building – he's insane." The woman eyed Hawke suspiciously. "Once they go they don't come back. It's how Rapture became the hell hole it is now. I'm not having him, or his insanity, endangering me."

"He's not insane." Hawke moved further into the room, watching the woman. "Just an idiot. And it was the spirit inside of him that drove him to do all this in the first place. Plus he is the only one who might have a good chance at getting us back to our world. And also is the only healer. So he stays. End of."

"Okay then." The woman raised a hand. "So you're obviously all crazy as hell." She sighed and looked down at the rough rugged floor. Silence echoed around them; she was thinking hard about something. "I need allies." She whispered softly. She raised her head and stared directly into Fenris' eyes. The deep amber burned like fires into him. "He can stay. You all are welcome in my home. So long as you don't make irritations of yourselves and muck in you can eat my food and relax in the safety I have here." Her eyes shifted away from him and he released the held breath he didn't know he had. "I'm afraid we'll have to wait until tomorrow to eat properly – I'm low on all but McVitie's biscuits and whiskey."

With that she padded away into her bedroom, closing the door softly behind her and leaving them all staring after her. Fenris swallowed; examining the door she'd disappeared behind before turning to the others. Like him they held expressions of surprise and wary curiosity.

Marilyn collapsed onto her bed, staring at the ceiling and lay there like death had taken her. The shadows of the rhythms of the sea floated across her, caressing her thin body. Marilyn was not a tall woman. Rather, her teenage years had been plagued with taunting when she'd reached the height of five foot two at the early age of twelve. Her hair was straight and blonde, just curling up a little at her shoulders and a small white plat decorated the front of her face. Her hair had begun to grey when Rapture had collapsed. She'd been a young girl at the time – only ten years old. At twenty she felt like she'd lived a thousand life times.

There was a soft cry and suddenly Marilyn's button nose was filled with the scent and fur of cat. She opened her deep amber eyes and peered at her mog who was purring loudly and pawing at her waist.

"Hey there Lucifer," she muttered, stroking the cat's head. The pair of green eyes closed in bliss, the angular head shoving up against her stroking fingers. "Just what am I going to do?"

Lucifer's body began to vibrate with the force of his vocalisations, his narrow paws pushing into her side and his claws lazily catching on her shirt. The cat had been a small kitten when she'd found him, lost and alone in one of the cupboards of the small kitchen of her apartment. His mother and the rest of his litter had been dead – Lucifer was all that was left. So she'd taken him and looked after him ever since.

With a sigh she sat up, pushing Lucifer into a more comfortable position beside her pillow before getting to her feet. It was time to change the dressings on her thigh. Carefully she unzipped her leather trousers and eased them gingerly down her legs. The bandages were only a few hours old yet blood had already started to stain them. She hummed to herself, beginning to unravel it – the cool air stung it a little.

It wasn't a nasty wound; it was shallow but bled a lot thanks to the disgusting hooks of the spider Splicers. She'd met one on her last foraging mission when she'd gotten too cocky and ranged further afield than usual. She knew better now.

She got to her feet and trotted to her dresser, pulling out another health pack and sitting in the chair. If only her wound would heal; she was getting tired of changing her dressings every day. There was nothing she could do, however, and she resigned herself to cleaning it.

As she worked she allowed her mind to wander. Her thoughts focused on Mister Light Bulb almost immediately. Mmm that was a man if she'd ever seen one. The white hair, the dark skin and those deep green eyes – they made her shudder. And his name... oh his name...

Her gaze flicked up to her bookshelf. It was crammed with stories from Norse lore. The tales of Odin, Loki and Thor were inscribed on the weathered pages, mainly in poems. She'd spent most of her life examining them and they continued to fascinate her. Especially the wolf Fenris. The tale of his unfortunate demise reminded her of her own life and it was a story she held dear to her heart.

She was glad when her bandages were finished and she slowly pulled her trousers back on. It took a muster of strength to get up and pad to her wardrobe. Behind the mahogany panels were several old quilts and some pillows. If she was to be a host she would have to cater for her guests. It was with a sigh that she gathered some of them in her arms and took them outside.

The strangers broke off in mid conversation as she entered the room. They all peered at her as she placed the quilts on the back of her sofa.

"Well, I guessed y'all would be tired so I decided to get you your bed stuff." She smiled slightly, trying to seem hospitable. Inside she felt awkward. She hadn't had guests for... many years.

"Thank you, Marilyn." Hawke said, getting to her feet. She stepped forwards before continuing. "Do you need help getting the... ah... bedding?"

"No." She smiled softly and turned around, padding back to her bedroom. It was set to be a long, sleepless night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry for the wait! I have really important exams coming up so I have to revise for that... anyway, I hope you like it! :3 Comments and, for one time only, what would you like to see happen between the characters? If the idea is good I'll write it, and dedicate it just for you! :D So, bring them in. And if they're all excellent I'll mash all the ideas together to make a story arch all on its own.**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

**Chapter 5 will be begun as soon as you guys give me your ideas! (Don't worry, there is an actual story arch I have planned, this is pay back for having such a long wait between chapters *insert sheepish face here*)**

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><p>Chapter Four<p>

The darkness clouded her vision.

Marilyn dared not breathe as a Splicer padded softly on the other side of the wall, muttering softly to itself. She had to stay calm. She had to stay focused.

It was with beautiful fluidity that she spun around the doorframe and thrust her wrench down on the Splicer's head, smashing in its skull with a gut wrenching crack. The Splicer went down without a sound, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

"Alright." She said softly. "All's clear."

Out of the shadows crept her handpicked companions. Mister Light-Bulb, Birdie – the leader of the strangers, Varric the dwarf and Mister Emotional. Mister Emotional had tagged along only because his precious Hawke insisted on it. If it had been up to her she would have left him behind. She had had a great mistrust of him since she'd found out he'd blown up their so called 'Chantry' which sounded like a church. Any man who thought it right to kill innocent people of faith didn't deserve to live.

But, she was grateful for the help. Even if she distrusted her fellows. Apart from Varric – she'd dropped her nickname for him when she found she trusted him.

"So what are we looking for?" Hawke asked softly, her sharp blue eyes roaming around the sitting room. Marilyn had taken to raiding the surrounding apartments in Siren Alley. Now she had others to help protect her she felt more confident.

"Health packs, food, money and EVE Hypos." She said as she began rooting around in a drawer. "You know what a dollar looks like. You see any, you grab 'em. We need it."

They did as she ordered. It did not please her to see them follow her word like a pack of dogs but she understood that they would.

She also understood they'd have to be quick. It wouldn't take long for other Splicers to come and investigate. Not only was the threat of Splicers imminent but she did not trust the other elf girl to be alone in her home for long periods of time. She was another one of these so called 'mages' – so far they'd proved to be as insane as some of the Splicers.

"Sorry." Grunted Mister Light-Bulb as his hand brushed hers. They had both spotted a wad of dollars sitting on the bench. She grinned at him.

"No problem – hey, I'm not 'no contact' like you, Mister Light-Bulb."

Varric's laugh rumbled around the room and she glanced back, smirking at him. Mister Light-Bulb scowled darkly and she could feel his glare on the back of her head. She'd learnt not to care about his scowling. Instead she found she gained a small glow of triumph if she irritated him. It was fun poking the wolf with a stick.

She opened another cupboard and spotted a spider. "Ugh gross..." she muttered, shuddering. She hated spiders.

"Oh look, how sweet." Varric said, peering around her to see. It's long, hairy legs waved slightly and eight eyes blinked up at them. "It's waving hello to us."

"Better it stays in there, if I'm honest." She said, curling her lip. "Hopefully it'll scuttle off and occupy itself with some flies or something."

Varric smirked as she scanned the shelves and spotted a can of C.J. Greens. The beans were not a welcome sight but she picked them up anyway, tucking them into her rucksack. Each of the companions had their own bags; she cast her gaze around and watched as Birdie examined a bottle of PainDrain Aspirin before placing it carefully in her sac.

"What is this?" Mister Light-Bulb said softly as his long fingers wrapped around the Cheeky pep bar, examining the cellophane wrapping.

"It's tasty – try it." Marilyn bustled to his side. He frowned at her before struggling to open it. She rolled her eyes and with a simple 'here' grabbed it and unwrapped it, handing it back. There was a pause as he eyed it suspiciously before he took a bite. He chewed slowly, those eyes narrowing and the vivid green stones flickered to her.

"How... strange." He said softly, peering back down at the pep bar. She grinned.

"You like?" He didn't reply but she continued anyway. "Well, get as many as you can – but leave one for the Little Sisters."

"You've mentioned them several times – we have yet to see one." Birdie said, crossing the room with her bag.

"Yes, well, I've been keeping you away from the Big Daddies. You're not ready for them yet." She shrugged, casually placing several packets of Nico-Time cigarettes into her rucksack. She did not want to share them. They may have been unhealthy but they were all that were keeping her calm under the stress of several new housemates.

"'Ready for them'?" Mister Emotional's voice was a surprise to her. She hadn't heard him speak since he'd gotten over enthusiastic over her cat. "We've fought dragons and you're telling us we're not ready for a tin man?"

She rounded on them, feeling hassled. They were all watching her curiously but there was no hostility – other than Mister Light-Bulb. She was used to it though.

"Not yet. They're difficult to kill. I don't want you to get killed on my watch." She replied stiffly. But she was afraid: she was dangerously low on ADAM and she was desperate to upgrade her Incinerate! plasmid. She would have to go hunting soon.

"We can take care of ourselves – we haven't even seen a Big Daddy yet." Birdie's hand went to her sword. Marilyn stared at her before bursting into laughter.

"You can't go after a Big Daddy with swords, a crossbow and some twigs." She said, gesturing to Mister Emotional's staff. "No offence; you guys aren't going to last four seconds against one of those without bullets and plasmids."

"We've got magic."

"I don't trust your magic." She said bluntly. Mister Light-Bulb shifted slightly, eyeing her sceptically. Birdie frowned.

"Your 'plasmids' are the same." She took a step forwards. Marilyn raised her chin slightly. "You must trust us."

Her reply was cut short by the cackle of Splicers. Electrified with sudden, choking terror, her Incinerate! flared to life around her clenched fist. With a last, soft frown at Birdie, Marilyn sprang away, heading out the room and sprinting down the corridor. She thanked every god she could think of – ancient Egyptian gods and goddesses and all – she had wrapped towels around the tin cans to stop them rattling. The clank clank of her companions' armour drove tiny spikes of noise into her ears. She would have to make them understand stealth won over brawn in Rapture.

Mister Light-Bulb fell into step beside her, his tattoos flaring brightly in the shadowy dark of the hall – at least he ran silently. They passed a glance at each other.

"I agree with you." he said quietly. "I do not trust magic."

"I've heard." She replied, skidding around a corner. Mister Light-Bulb matched her perfectly. "But Birdie is right, plasmids are basically the same."

"Birdie?"

"Hawke."

"Oh. Well, you are no magister."

She raised her eyebrow and passed him a glance. His gaze was trained fiercely ahead, his jaw locked and his brow furrowed. She felt herself smile. Yes, Fenris was a good name for him. She was going to use it.

"What's the difference?"

Fenris' lips curled into a rare smirk. Wow... he could show emotion other than male PMS.

"Everything. You're not twisted and evil, nor are you power hungry. Mages will do anything for power – everything they touch is spoilt." He glanced at her with those green eyes. They were hard as steel, and just as cold. "Inevitably, they will all eventually succumb to the temptations of demons and blood magic." He sighed and looked ahead again. "You know not of demons and so you will not be tempted by them."

Her eyebrow rose higher – she'd never heard him talk so much. She said as much as they ducked into a dark room. He cast her another smirk, loping easily beside her.

Their group made their way towards Marilyn's safe house, being carefully to be swift but quiet. But she was not ready for rest just yet. She had things to do, creatures to hunt, and ADAM to collect. It was with this notion in mind that she hung back when they came to a halt at the entrance.

"I'm going to snoop around some more." She said lightly. They all turned to her, frowning.

"You shouldn't go alone, sweetheart." Varric's voice was soft and delicate. His eyes watched her carefully as she shifted in defence.

"I've been able to walk the halls of Rapture alone for many years. I don't need company."

"Well, at least take Broody. He's a fine warrior." Varric grinned, knocking his elbow into Fenris' side. Fenris grunted, frowning.

Birdie's gaze snapped between the two of them before she nodded. "I agree with Varric. Take Fenris with you. He's the best warrior here."

There was a silence before Fenris stepped forwards again. Marilyn nodded in agreement – it wasn't as though she could refuse anyway.

"Here, can you hold this for a moment?" she asked, holding out her rucksack to Varric. "I just need ammo and my gun."

He took hold of it as she unzipped it. The silence was oppressive as she rooted around for her belt of bullets, pulling it out and hoisting it over her shoulder. Varric's eyes held something like worry as she took the bag back. She ignored it pointedly. She didn't need his worry, nor did she want it.

"I'll be back shortly." She said to the group before turning away and striding into the darkness. The tick tick of her machines followed her, Fenris padding silently behind her.

"You don't have to follow me." She said softly into the dark. She was mentally preparing herself for what was coming. She was going to hunt and slay a Big Daddy and take its Little Sister's ADAM.

"I know. But Hawke is right. I'm the best warrior here, and it's dangerous. To lose you would be counterproductive."

She glanced back at him, smiling widely. "You're kind of her bitch, aren't you?"

He blinked. "Not really. I owe her my life and freedom."

"Really? It would seem you are bound by more than fetters of slavery." She passed him a small smile before turning and trotting ahead of him. She missed his confused expression.

Fenris followed Marilyn closely as she strode silently down the corridor. Her lithe form held a mixture of confidence and decision. When he'd been a slave he'd learnt how to read people well enough to know she had decided something.

They passed silently into the main hall of what she called Siren Alley. She paused; the dim lighting from above glinted on the shattered glass at her boots and a stain that looked suspiciously like blood seeped towards her. She crouched, brushing her fingers through the red liquid.

"Fresh." She muttered, wiping her fingers on a scrap of material she pulled out of her belt. "Stay close, and stay quiet."

She crept forwards towards the banister, drawing what she called a gun. It seemed they were on the second floor – below them lay the debris of a thousand battles. He peered downwards, swallowing slightly.

There was blood everywhere. The wooden floor of the lower level was coated in it, the bodies of the dead limp and rotting. But that wasn't what held his attention.

The tyrannical groan rumbled like thunder below. There, waddling slowly and steadily, was a mass of metal bristling with its huge weapon.

"That's a Big Daddy; a Bouncer to be precise." She said softly. "And you see the child with it? That's a Little Sister."

He leaned further until he could see a small, childlike figure following the Big Daddy. In her hand was clutched a nasty looking... needle? He didn't have time to ask questions. Marilyn was shuffling silently away from him, heading for the stairs. He followed quietly and tried to ignore the mottled remains of one of the Splicer creatures.

The metallic glint of her gun caught his eye. She paused and then holstered it, twisting and opening her bag quickly. Out of it she pulled a bigger gun. She caught his eye, winked, and turned away again, striding quickly down the stairs. He got to his feet and drew his sword, following closely.

Each groan of the Big Daddy was followed by the giggling of the little girl. Marilyn stalked towards the creature, her body taught and ready. Fenris felt his heart begin to clamour with excitement. It had been so long since he'd had a challenge. Splicers were all well and good, but no more threatening than magi.

The silence was oppressive, even when broken by the heavy thud of each step of the Big Daddy. The floor seemed to shake under its weight and for a moment Fenris felt slightly intimidated. How could something that heavy even walk? It was clad in armour even thicker than Hawke's. It looked slow and strong and difficult to kill.

But Marilyn did not seem fazed: she trailed after the creature, her eyes sharp and her body tensed. He was seeing what he'd seen Hawke do a thousand times. She was readying herself for the right moment.

"Aim for his arms and legs." She whispered. "Only dive in for swift attacks. Do not get in the way of his drill."

"Drill?"  
>She pointed at the Big Daddy's right arm where something metallic glinted with blood. Fenris blinked before taking a steadying breath. Right.<p>

"Are you ready?"

Without waiting for his reply Marilyn loaded her gun with small metal bolts she called bullets and aimed for the back of the Big Daddy's back. There was a moment of shocking silence in which Fenris steeled himself before the gun exploded.

The creature shrieked and wheeled around more swiftly than Fenris expected. He felt his lyrium flare to life and he darted towards it, striking forwards with his sword and aiming for the beast's leathered arms. The tip of the blade sank deep into the material and he blinked, slightly surprised. What was Marilyn so afraid of? These 'Big Daddies' were no tougher than golems, maybe even weaker.

He was very wrong. There was a sudden splintering pain in his thigh and he staggered away. The split moment he had dallied had given the beast time to use the 'drill' to wound him. He heard Marilyn curse in annoyance before she fired again. Her aim was true enough. The great beast's red eyes shattered into fragments of glass. Fenris scrambled backwards away from it, taking a steadying breath. With a scream the beast started towards Marilyn, the child at his heels wailing in fear.  
>With a snarl Fenris leapt back towards the Big Daddy, bringing his sword recklessly down on its head. The world around him rang as steel met steel and the creature staggered, groaning. There was more gunfire as Marilyn's voice praised him. The sound made him smile slightly. It felt nice to be praised.<br>It was all going so well. The Big Daddy was starting to fall, blood seeping out of its wound on its arm, its breath becoming heavy and desperate. Marilyn reloaded again and again and was bringing the creature to its knees. Fenris hacked and slashed at the creature with all his might, enjoying the thrill of the fight. Splicers were difficult, but this was a real challenge. He'd missed challenges.

Finally the beast collapsed to the ground with a heavy, ground shaking thud and groaned its life away. Panting, Marilyn relaxed as the child fell to its knees at the Big Daddy's side, screaming her pain. Fenris shied away from the sound. Hearing children cry had never sat well with him.

"Have a snoop around, Fenris." She said softly. He peered at her curiously; her face was strangely blank. He'd learnt to recognise that expression well. It was an expression taken on by someone who was about to undertake something unpleasant. He decided to obey her. He turned from her and started away, the sound of the child's crying echoing in his ears.

Marilyn peered down at the Little Sister as pity welled in her heart. Now was the choice. To harvest or save the child. She juggled her possibilities with a sort of hopeful indecision. She knew what she would choose. She always chose the same.

As Fenris stalked down the hall she knelt at the child's side. It shied away from her as she reached out and grabbed its arm. It wasn't a child anymore, she kept telling herself, it was just a stupid machine used to gather ADAM. It wasn't a child anymore...

The mantra didn't help her as she forced the Little Sister to come closer. Its pale skin went red when she moved her hand up its arm where she gripped it. The yellow glowing eyes stared blankly up at her as the little trim dress struggled in fear. The voice whimpered and Marilyn clenched her jaw.

There was no way she could harvest the Little Sister. She felt sick at the thought of it. So she thanked the gods that her father had been friendly with Tenenbaum. The plasmid felt warm and safe as it flared on her hand. It didn't stop her nausea, even as she brushed her glowing palm over the Little Sister's forehead. The warmth spread throughout her body as the Little Sister fell limp. The ADAM dribbled over her hand as the child gave up its gathering life. Quickly, she unhooked the tube of ADAM off her belt and held it under the red concoction pooling like mercury in her palm.

And then the warmth receded. Panting, she fell away from the child, feeling sick and shaking. The Little Sister clambered to her feet, swaying slightly, and peered at her through a pair of bright blue eyes.

"Thank you, miss, thank you." The Little Sister said shyly before she scuttled away.

Marilyn fell back on the bloodstained floor, and stared up at the ceiling, still shivering in revulsion.

She truly hated gathering ADAM.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Fire scorched the walls around her. Ten-year-old Marilyn scampered away from the wreckage of her home, her mother holding her hand tightly. The smoke choked her and she coughed hard, squeezing shut her stinging eyes. The screams of the other people trapped in their emblazed homes echoed around her. The fire raged around them, not a single soul was attempting to tame the blaze.

Her fear was sickening as her mother shoved her into a narrow air vent.

"Find your father, Marilyn." She said urgently. "Quickly, honey."

"Mommy!" Marilyn cried as her mother was suddenly dragged away from her with a scream.

"Find your father!" Her mother was saying over and over again as a man hauled her down the burning corridor. Marilyn, clutching her teddy bear Simon, turned and shuffled through the vent.

She was so confused. One moment her daddy had been telling her a story to send her to sleep, smoking his pipe, and the next a huge explosion had rattled the windows. She knew it was a very special day. It was New Years Eve – she was used to big parties with her parents' friends. Often her daddy would perform tricks with his plasmids. She loved it when he did that.

But this evening, her daddy had said there wasn't going to be a big party. She'd been confused, but she'd accepted this.

Sniffing, she continued onwards. The tunnel seemed to stretch out forever – she hoped she could find her daddy.

"It's okay, Simon." She said, her voice shaking in fear. She was trying to comfort herself. Her nightie caught on her legs as she crawled. Simon's dark button eyes stared up at her sightlessly. The metal around her was cold, and the echoes of continued fighting made her feel sick. She hated fighting.

The memory seemed to fast forward.

Suddenly she was sitting in an office, her daddy tending to her scraped knees while she clutched Simon close, and cried softly.

"Th-they took mommy!" she wailed softly.

"Shh, it's alright." Her daddy wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "You're going to be alright now. Mommy's in a better place now."

She paused and whispered. "Is she in Valhalla?" Her daddy's stories about Odin and the other gods had always comforted her. Her daddy peered at her with dark eyes, his expression pained. She cocked her head, the moment hanging on his answer. She hoped mommy was in Valhalla with all the great warriors; because mommy was definitely a warrior.

"Of course." Her daddy's voice shook slightly. She sighed in relief and smiled.

"That's good. That means she's happy."

All the worry bled out of her in that moment and her daddy turned from her, heading to his desk and starting to write a note. She peered at the picture on his desk and saw her family. And her little sister.

Confusion entered her heart as she stared at the little girl next to her in the picture. Her sister had gone missing so long ago she could hardly remember why. She'd known once, but she didn't understand now. She sighed softly, looking down at the floor.

The dream faded as Marilyn woke up slowly. Pain throbbed in her heart as she remembered that night. She'd never seen her mother again. Her father had died six years after, leaving her to fend for herself at sixteen. And her sister... Gods... that's why she was still here.

The constant desire to find her sister was all that was keeping her from blowing her brains out with her pistol. She had two leads, and a sneaking suspicion what had happened. She'd obviously been turned into a little sister.

Marilyn swept the thoughts aside as she rose from the bed and grabbed her dressing gown, pulling it on and padding out her room. She had more important things to think about. The others were asleep. Birdie and Mister Emotional were squashed on the couch for warmth, Varric and Santa's-Little-Helper were snoring softly on the thin mattress she'd managed to salvage and Fenris... Fenris was awake.

"Morning." He said softly, peering at her with those hypnotic eyes. She blinked and hesitated.

"Uh... morning."

Silently, he got to his feet and made his way to her over his sleeping companions. She eyed him suspiciously. She hadn't been alone with him for a long time – not since the Big Daddy over a week ago. Gods... he was extraordinarily eye catching.

He stopped before her, staring at her and frowning softly.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly. She raised an eyebrow.

"Of course."

"Don't lie." His voice held strained patience. "I heard you crying out in your sleep. What's wrong?"

She hesitated again, silently cursing herself. If only she could keep her trap shut when she slept! Then she wouldn't have awkward situations like this. She sighed.

"It's a little complicated. You don't need to worry." She turned away from him and headed to the bathroom. She felt a warm hand on her arm and she stopped dead. Fenris never touched anyone.

"I do worry."

She blinked and peered at him over her shoulder. He was frowning, seemingly at himself. Then she laughed very softly.

"You don't need to worry. I'm fine. Just a bad dream, that's all."

"Yes, and continue." He watched her expectantly. She sighed and looked at the floor, which she always did when she felt uncomfortable.

"No. Sorry, I don't want to." She said after a moment, and pushed him away before heading to the bathroom and closing the door sharply behind her. She leaned against the wood, resting her head back and staring sightlessly at the ceiling. She didn't want to talk about her sister tonight. Not when the past felt so close.

Fenris blinked, gawking at the bathroom door and felt a pang of something not dissimilar to regret. He frowned to himself and turned away. What was it to him if she didn't want to talk? It wasn't like he cared for her emotions. He was just concerned with her ability to focus on the task at hand. If their guide was incapable of helping them, he would step in and eliminate the problem.

Still, it slighted him that she didn't trust him.

He picked his way over the dwarf's snoring form and padded silently to the great window which took up most of the sitting room's wall. Through it he stared at the shaded towers of Rapture. The husky blue light from the ocean around them interested him. His sharp eyes picked over the red and yellow neon sign glowing eerily in the distance. He struggled for a moment to read it, remembering Hawke's lessons.

F-I-N-L-E-Y. Finley? What did that mean?

He suddenly jerked away from the window in shock and horror as a momentous creature loomed past the glass. One great dark eye beheld him for a moment before the creature passed serenely on, a huge grey bulk blocking the entire window until the only light in the room came from the gloomy lamp in Marilyn's bedroom. Fenris was struck between amazement and awe. He watched as the creature's massive tail swept past and then pressed his cheek against the cool glass to watch it on its way.

Of all the curious things in Rapture, this was the most curious he had seen since they had arrived.

"Whales don't often pass through Rapture." Said a soft voice from behind him. For a moment his heart leapt in shock and he twisted around to see Marilyn. She was watching him gently, smiling slightly. He stared at her dumbly as she padded to his side and surveyed the city below.

"They're quite shy, and uncommon. You were lucky to see one." She continued. Silence enveloped them for a moment. He felt himself standing awkwardly in her presence. She was so small in comparison to him – the top of her blonde head just levelled with his shoulder.

"So, will we be going out again?" He asked and she peered up at him seriously. It was a moment before she flashed him a grin. He couldn't help notice the grin didn't quite reach her deep amber eyes.

"Yeah. Just you and me today, Fen-Fen." She chucked very lightly and looked away as he scowled, outraged.

"'Fen-Fen'?!" He exclaimed, furious. "What is this profanity you bestow upon me? I am not some gilded pet to be–"

It was her laughter that stopped him mid rant. She was laughing softly, but without any hint of malicious mockery. It was... alien to him. Of course, Hawke and he had shared laughs before. And occasionally Varric provided amusement when the ale ran like water between them. But Marilyn's laugh sent a shiver down his spine. It was pleasant to listen to, and put him in mind of fair places, rather than the grime in Rapture. A laugh like that didn't belong in a dark place.

"Dear Lord, Fenris, it was a joke." She snorted. "Just a stupid joke; there was no need for you to freak out."

The way she shook her head made him regret his anger. This surprised him. He'd never regretted being angry in his life, except maybe with Hawke.

The words fell from his lips before he could master himself. "I... apologise." He left a polite pause and when she didn't reply, he continued. "Why did you call me such?"

She shrugged. "I thought it would be funny." His eyebrow rose at this, but he allowed it to pass. "Anyway, today we go foraging. Just the two of us – you're the only one I really trust here, other than Varric. So, y'know..."

He blinked. She trusted him? He fell into meddled confusion for a moment. Hawke was a better warrior than him, and she was their leader and friend. How could Marilyn not...

Oh. His eyes darted to the slumbering abomination. Crystalline understanding sharpened his brow as he frowned.

"You don't trust Hawke because of the... the mage?"

"Yes. I don't trust people who blow up buildings filled with the people of faith. I might not be overly religious, but somehow that idea doesn't sit well with me."

"We are of the same mind."

She smiled up at him and he found himself smiling back automatically. Then she cast her gaze over his armour. He looked down at himself, wondering what was wrong.

"We need to get some comfortable clothes for all of you here. You can't keep sleeping in your armour, plus you're all starting to smell a little." She wrinkled her nose slightly. "The Splicers will fuck you over if they can smell you. So you've got to be careful."

"Indeed?"

She smiled warmly up at him for a moment before padding towards the hatch and crouching down. He swallowed slightly, eyeing her behind as she crawled forwards and out of sight. He hesitated, and then decided to follow her.

He was about to crawl through the hatch when he heard Hawke call his name. He glanced back, peering at her face which was concerned.

"What is it?" He asked, his voice sharp and irritated as usual.

"Be careful with that woman. I don't want you getting hurt."

He scowled and headed out, getting to his feet as the hatch closed and clicked behind him. He peered at Marilyn, who was inspecting the peculiar beasts that guarded her home.

"What are those beasts?" He asked as they ticked menacingly, turning their long snouts to him. He didn't bother tensing. They wouldn't attack him. "I hear them roaring in the night sometimes." He reached out and patted the nearest one, the one she called Igor, on the nose. The metallic carapace did not yield to his touch.

"They're not beasts." She grunted as she tightened something under the creature's belly with what she called a wrench. There was silence for a moment before she shuffled back out into the open. "They're turrets. Machines that shoot splicers that come into this room."

"I do not understand. They are made of metal, like some golems, but they do not move but for their snouts."

"Well... they're just machines. They're just parts office chairs with guns fixed onto them." She peered at him. "They do their job well enough. Come, we have a lot of work to do today."

With that she turned and padded away. He followed quickly, glancing back at the machines. They ticked softly, barrel muzzles at the ready.

She led the way through the darkness of Rapture, her gun drawn and at her side. Each breath was carefully calculated, and so was each step. The one thing he found odd about Rapture was the way the sound was distorted. Every so often he would hear the ominous creak of the bulkheads, and the tap tap of water dripping on a wooden floor. It gave him chills. However, he would rather die than show his emotions.

He watched as she ducked into a room silently. He followed her, humming softly as his hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword. He was tensing up, preparing for combat. Anything could be lurking behind the sofa or chairs.

"Ah... here we go." Marilyn murmured as she picked her way towards a closet. "What does your Hawke like to wear?"

"Trousers." He hissed in reply, keeping a sharp ear out.

"How big are your feet?"

"Pardon?" he threw her a look. She was crouched on the ground beside the closet, holding a pair of tight looking black shoes. He narrowed his eyes and said with pride. "Elves don't wear shoes."

"Elves don't want seven inch nails shoved into their feet. Wear the shoes." She stuffed them into her backpack before gathering the rest of the clothes and putting them in as well. She got to her feet slowly before continuing out the room and into another corridor. He followed, frowning slightly. Marilyn was rather... strange. But he liked her. He definitely liked her.

"Oh fuck."

Marilyn had paused in the entrance to another room and had flattened herself against the wall, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow. He tensed, watching her carefully. She peered at him after a moment, pressing a finger against her lips before tugging at her earlobe. Listen.

He listened with all his might. Distantly, he heard soft rustlings. Splicers. Over twenty of them. In one small room. His eyes widened as he stared at Marilyn. She looked terrified.

The rustlings stopped and silence fell over them both. She hesitated before raising three fingers. On the count of three they were going to enter the room and attack. He nodded, drawing his sword with a soft hiss of metal on metal.

One finger went down.

The rustling had started up again.

The second finger followed the first.

Fenris tensed, clenching his sword hard. There was a hesitation on Marilyn's part. Fenris knew what she was thinking. Was this worth it? He nodded his head. They needed food desperately.

The third finger ended all thoughts of retreat.

With a roar Fenris charged into the room, swinging his sword and beheading several splicers who were too slow to react to him. His lyrium flared to life, and he buried his hand deep into the chest of a woman with a face made of clay. He tugged once, twice, three times before ripping her still beating heart through her ribs. He heard the roar of a gun and saw Marilyn slaying another splicer.

By this time the other splicers had realised what was going on. With a collective shriek they fell in upon them. Fenris slashed and hacked and dodged and jumped for his life. Several times he almost lost his footing as blood pooled around him. His breath came hard and fast, bursting out of his chest as he twisted, burying his blade deep into a splicer with a face mask. The moment froze as the mask fell away and revealed the horror beneath. He pulled away in disgust, killing the monster with a harsh kick with is leg. It fell back only to be replaced by another.

Distantly, he was aware of Marilyn fighting at his back. Together, they moved as one, dancing in the heat of battle. Had he not been so preoccupied with the sheer volume of enemies he might have called it beautiful in a sick sort of way.

Marilyn, on the other hand, was roaring various profanities. Her tongue moved as fast as her trigger. Every few seconds an explosion deafened him to her voice.

He discovered from this that she was battle crazy. Eventually, when the last splicer had fallen, she sprinted forward, bellowing a taunt as the survivors scurried away. She would have continued after them had he not grabbed her shoulder.

"Enough."

She whirled to him, panting hard and fast, her eyes wide and excited. Then she grabbed the front of his armour and yanked him down, pausing before kissing him hard.

Fenris tensed, shocked. No one had ever kissed him before. No one had ever dared. Yet...

The sword in his hand clattered to the floor as he placed his hands on her waist, pulling her close to him. Her arms wound around his neck, her lips moving with his with a desperation he had never experienced. She was alive and hot to the touch. His fingers found bare flesh as her shirt rode up. She was standing on tip toe to reach him.

After a few seconds she murmured heatedly against his mouth. "I need you, Fenris."

Panting hard, Fenris pushed her away. "I can't."

She stared up at him, her eyes filled with hope and longing. "Please, Fenris. I have never had a man."

He paused at this. He found he was a little too pleased about her innocence. But... he couldn't. She was of a different world. A different time. He was... not right for her.

"I can't, Marilyn. I'm sorry."

She placed a hand over his heart. It was thrashing hard against his ribs. For her, he realised a little too late. "Fenris, you can do whatever you want." She leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before taking a couple steps back. The heat had faded from her.

Silence fell between them.

"C'mon." She murmured. "We've got food to get."

With that she padded away.


End file.
